


Bound

by Lythane



Category: Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Berserkr Thor, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Lady Loki, M/M, Obsession, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Theme of Blood, Warnings May Change, misuse of magic, vague timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2019-11-07 04:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17953673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lythane/pseuds/Lythane
Summary: The first time Thor feels it; the sky is as red as the blood that will bind him.For there is no Thor without Loki and no Loki without Thor, eternally bound and eternally one, with not even death to part them.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Thor feels it; the sky is as red as the blood that will bind him.

It’s evening, during a blisteringly hot summer in Vanaheim, the first trip Thor and Loki have persuaded their parents they could take alone, brazen and defiant and eager to prove themselves.  Unfortunately, their lack of experience has shown in plenty already - they have yet to catch anything edible all day and have already polished off their reserves of food.

The sun is ghosting on the horizon, casting long shadows through the forest, beautiful oranges and pinks of sunset that go unheeded by Thor, who is trampling through the undergrowth with an empty stomach and a bad temper.

“I’m going to eat my own boot if we don’t find something soon,” Thor grumbles, whacking his axe through a branch irritably.

“If you keep shouting, we won’t,” Loki snaps back, just a few paces ahead of him.  Thor hacks at another tree and mutters in response.  Their camp is set up just ahead in a small clearing, and as the daylight slowly fades, Thor stubbornly decides he will just _starve_.

The clearing moves into view, and so does the end of their dismal attempt at hunting.  Thor continues ahead when Loki stops to forage something out of a tree and then stops dead in his tracks.

There’s a creature snuffling about their campsite, a young boar-like thing that seems oblivious to its treacherous position as it paws through the ashes of their campfire from last night.  Thor looks back to Loki, who is now standing stock still a few steps behind him, knife in hand and looking slightly rabid with hunger.

The creature steps out into the centre of the clearing, basking in the low glow of the sun, lit up like a gods-dammed present in a halo of sunlight.

Blood pounds in his ears like a drumbeat of war as Thor stares at the animal, afraid to even breathe.  He grips his axe tighter, aware that one wrong move and this thing will likely outrun them, especially on an empty stomach. 

Loki comes to a stop beside him and gently places a hand on Thor’s arm to say ‘wait’.

A bitter tang of metal floats in the air, the taste of Seidr, and Thor watches as the edges of the clearing shimmer to a reflection - a wall of trees - only an illusion but enough to keep an animal confused.

Loki flicks his hand, _go brother_ , and disappears into green smoke, appearing in the clearing above the creature, blades glinting with murderous intent.

Thor can almost taste the delicious, salty meat as he charges forward, swinging his axe with every last bit of energy he has.  The boar-like creature puts up a fair fight, having both of them battered and bruised by the time Loki drives his blade into the creature’s throat, splitting it with a shout and splattering himself with blood.

The beast goes down with a thunderous crash, eyes rolling back and staining the grass red.

There’s a moment of silence when all Thor can hear is his own harsh breathing and Loki panting beside him before he roars with excitement, adrenaline pumping with the thrill of a kill. 

“That was quite a feat!” Thor shouts, bounding over to Loki and butting his shoulder against him affectionately, “I was certain for a moment that I saw a true berserkr in you!”

“Mn,” Loki says flatly, wiping his blades clean on his coat before vanishing them, “let’s go, I’m starving.”

Thor simply laughs in response, hauling the creature over his shoulder with little (some) effort. Loki picks up their bags where they had abandoned them and they begin the short walk back to their campsite, the boar’s head dragging along the floor behind Thor as they walk side by side.  

Upon arrival Thor drops the creature onto a slab of stone and Loki busies himself with skinning and preparing it.  Thor hovers beside him impatiently, stomach adding background music to his impatient side stepping until Loki shoos him away.

“Must I do everything myself? Go make a fire Thor or go hungry,” Loki says tersely, slicing a slab of skin away from the meat and shooting Thor a pointed look.

So he does, collecting wood from the forest around them and assembling an adequate fire.  Admiring his work for only a moment, Thor sparks the tinder to life with a bolt of lightning, pleased as the little flame catches quickly and begins to burn.  

He returns to the forest again, bringing a little extra wood and leaving it beside their modest tent.

Thor takes a seat by the fire and drinks from his flask, watching impatiently as Loki fusses with herbs and spices, skewering the chunks of meat onto a metal rod and balancing it over the fire with Seidr.

The juices dripping from the meat fill the air and Thor finds himself drooling at the thought of sinking his teeth into it.  When Loki finally presents it to him, he shovels the meat and scarce bread rations into his mouth faster than should be possible.  Loki is just as ravenous, if a little less messy with his dinner. 

They share idle chatter until the meal is done, and then fall quiet.

Thor enjoys these silences, the comfort of Loki’s presence without the need to talk.  He watches his brother across the flames, sensing that Loki might not be in such a comfort.  Loki wrings his hands where they lie in his lap, eyes glazed over as he stares into the fire.

“There’s something on your mind, brother,” Thor says, leaning down to try and catch Loki’s gaze.  Loki glances up at him and opens his mouth to speak, but instead shrugs and turns to look out into the pitch black of the forest.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s _something_ because even _I_ can see it,” Thor chuckles, “And as you _love_ to tell me, I’m not very observant.”

Loki scowls at him, crossing his legs, “It’s stupid.”

“I don’t care, if you are upset I would know why,” Thor says, walking around the campfire to slump down beside Loki.  He nudges his brother with his shoulder playfully.

Loki glances at him sideways, teeth worrying his lip.

“If I tell you, you have to swear not to be an ass about it,” Loki snaps.

“I super promise not to be an ass,” Thor replies softly.

Loki shoots him a look of disdain and returns his gaze to the fire.  Thor pulls a piece of grass from Loki’s hair whilst he waits, brushing the dark strands behind his ear.  Loki glances at him again, expression softer this time. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with your friends,” Loki says distantly. 

“I suppose I have,” Thor agrees, leaning back to rest on his hands.  Thor cocks his head to the side as he turns his brother’s words over in his mind, translating ‘what Loki said’ to ‘what Loki actually means’.  He nudges a piece of kindling further into the fire with his boot, scattering a bloom of fiery ashes into the air that glow like fireflies. “Is this your funny way of telling me you miss me?” he asks.

Loki scoffs, opening his mouth with what was likely a sharp retort, but instead he shrugs noncommittally.

“I suppose I do miss this, we used to do more together,” he says solemnly, “Just us.”

Thor thinks on this for a moment, aware that a wrong choice of words might cause Loki to shut himself away again.

“No one could replace you Loki, I … I don’t know how I can make you see that,” Thor says softly. He shrugs in frustration, unsure of his words. “I only have one brother.”

Loki picks at the blood stains on the sleeve of his tunic, and hums vaguely.

“I mean it,” Thor says, clapping his hand on Loki’s back fondly, “I have no one else I feel as close to as you.”

Loki nods, rubbing the dry blood between his fingers.

“Ok then,” Loki says, taking his blade and slicing along his palm before Thor has had a chance to react.  “Make a pact with me.”

“What?” Thor says, watching a drop of blood fall to the dirt, eyes wide with surprise, “We already share the same blood.”

“Then it doesn’t mean anything,” Loki replies.

“Loki…”

“If you mean it,” Loki says, holding out his hand with determination in his eyes.  “That you’ll never leave me.”

“Do you not trust my word?” Thor asks.

“Actions speak louder than words.”

A moment of tension lies in the air between them like a fog.  Thor watches Loki’s blood drip from his palm onto the dirt, one, two, three little splashes of red. 

It’s not unheard of for warriors to make blood pacts together, Thor knows Odin used to have one, so surely a blood pact between actual brothers could not be wrong, could it?

Decided, he takes Loki’s dagger and mirrors the action.  It stings as red pools in his palm, and he flexes his fingers briefly before the first rivulet of blood runs down his wrist and stains his clothes.

Their hands hover next to each other for a fraction of a second, and Thor sees a flicker of hesitancy in Loki’s eyes.

“Actions speak louder than words,” Thor repeats firmly, clasping his hand with Loki’s. 

A surge of magic blossoms in him, so powerful that Thor feels it rush in his veins, feels it in his heart like a punch to the chest.  He grips a little harder and suddenly it’s there, under his skin, a soft tug in his chest that _pulls_.

His vision tunnels to nothing but Loki, the feel of their hands pressed together - slick with blood, the sound of Loki’s breathing, the smell of firewood and ash and leather and-

It barely lasts a second before disappearing, and Thor finds his breath a little more ragged.

“Do... did you feel that?” Thor asks when he peels their hands apart - clammy with cold blood. He feels the wound beginning to knit already, perhaps a perk of being blood bonded to a sorcerer?

Loki studies his palm for a second before it heals neatly, sewn with Seidr.  He glances up at Thor quizzically.

“Feel what?”

Thor searches inside himself for the feeling again and finds nothing out of the ordinary, no sudden rush of magic, no pull.

“I thought I felt something,” Thor says slowly.

Loki cleans the blood from him with a shimmer of green, hands pale and gentle against Thor’s own with a grin across his face and Thor wonders briefly if it would be possible to lose himself in those bright green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension never really leaves Thor after that day by the fire.
> 
> He feels unsettled, odd, like something he had before has gone missing, something as precious as the breath in his lungs. He thinks back to that night, to the pull that he knows he felt, that for a brief moment had consumed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left Kudos and commented on the first chapter!

The tension never really leaves Thor after that day by the fire. 

He feels unsettled, odd, like something he had before has gone missing, something as precious as the breath in his lungs.   He thinks back to that night, to the pull that he _knows_ he felt, that for a brief moment had consumed him.

Thor begins to think he’s going mad, searching for something he can’t see, can’t name or even describe, something he finds no record of in books about the blood brothers of old.  He considers speaking to his father but quickly decides against it - Odin would likely not be pleased that they had had accidentally cast some damning old magic on themselves in a moment of stupidity. 

And as far as Thor knows, Loki appears unaffected by it.

A month passes before it happens again, a tightness in his chest that sings to him like a siren’s call and drives him to seek out his brother.  It wakes him from sleep early in the morning and Thor obeys it mindlessly, unaware that his footsteps are being guided by a power greater than he knows. 

When he takes a seat beside Loki at breakfast and their arms brush, the beckoning quells and the satisfaction is unlike anything he could put words to.

 

***

 

Loki has boundaries, more so than anyone else Thor knows, and Thor has lived his whole life figuring them out, knowing when to keep his distance, learning when not to touch, reading his expressions when he chooses not to speak.

On the contrary, Thor is tactile.  He finds affection in contact; embracing his friends, his parents, a clap on the shoulder after a spar or a kiss to the hand of a fair maiden. Sensation grounds him, and he has never truly understood why Loki shuns it so.

However, For Thor, Loki is tolerant.  About as tolerant as a cat that will sit beside you but leave if you so much as think to pet it. Before their pact, Thor was quite content with this, for his brother would not remain so close to anyone else but Thor and their mother, and it felt like a blessing.

It was enough.

Now though, Thor’s attention is drawn to the space between them where there could be none. 

_Is it wrong to want that?_

It’s now when the thrum of their bond simmers quietly under Thor’s skin, almost alive in the way it guides his thoughts and whispers suggestion in his ear. 

To look, to touch.

Whenever Thor searches for it, closing his eyes and falling to a meditative state, all he finds is an empty feeling where he was sure there was something before.  But, occasionally, yearning blooms in his chest like a fathomless black hole, endless and starving that calls to him, calling and demanding, to seek out Loki.

 _Find him_ , it says.

He is powerless to it, and gives to its every craving. 

Thor begins to notice more about his brother that he hadn’t a care to see before.  At first, it’s how gracefully he moves, footsteps barely audible next to Thor’s thundering boots, confident and sure in his step.  You might almost miss him in a group, silent, watching, so different from Thor’s other friends.  Slim where they are bulky, favouring speed over strength, magic over brute force.  Power so different from Thor’s own.

Then it’s the way he weaves his magic; like a spider spinning a web, each tendril of silky green Seidr cast with purpose to heal, to create, to deceive. 

Thor acquaints himself with the library more frequently just to sit and watch Loki practice magic.   Loki works late into the nights, with only a candle and the bright hum of green from his Seidr keeping the room illuminated.

Thor simply watches in silence, curled up in a chair or lying across the floor whilst Loki casts from his fingertips with a grace that Thor could never muster.  It’s mesmerising to watch, and again Thor wonders why he was never interested before.  Loki appears pleased by the company (though he never voices it), and doesn’t question why Thor is there when before he wouldn’t have step foot in the library when he could have been out sparring or drinking.

In turn, and seemingly of his own volition, Loki begins to attend more of Thor’s training sessions.  He sits at the side of the grounds in the shade of a tree and idly flicks through whatever tome he’s currently obsessing over, always feigning disinterest.

Loki’s eyes never really leave Thor once the matches start, so Thor makes a show of it, adding extra extravagance to his wins (and defeats) just to see amusement crack Loki’s usually unimpressed expression.  

One morning, Loki pulls him from the dirt after a particularly embarrassing loss, his hand pushing back Thor’s hair where it’s splattered across his face with mud, eyes alight with laughter. 

“That was dreadful,” Loki grins, handing Thor his practice sword (though it is bent in two and hardly any use now) “you should consider retiring.”

Thor pushes him backwards into the mud for his trouble, tripping over his own feet when Loki instead phases through him.  Thor lands on his back, _again_ , sending a wide spray of mud into the air that splatters delightfully up Loki’s body and across his face.  Affronted, Loki wrestles Thor into the mud and shoves a handful of dirt down his shirt.  Thor also gets a mouthful of mud for trying to speak, but it’s worth it, because Thor decides he quite likes the image of Loki on top of him, covered head to toe in mud.

Distantly, he knows he shouldn’t think such things, but when Loki sits up over his hips and stabs a blade into the dirt beside his head with a smirk that promises mischief, Thor decides he doesn’t much care.

That evening, sat together at dinner, with his thigh pressed lightly to Loki’s, Thor begins to wonder if Loki feels the same. If he too is bending to the pull even though he claimed he felt nothing that night.

Loki turns to smile at him, warm and inviting and Thor can’t help but return it, eyes dropping to the curve of Loki’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor struggles with his increasingly intense feelings for Loki.
> 
> Loki is a salacious flirt.

They become closer with every passing month, too close for brothers but not close enough for Thor.  He begins to spend more time splayed out in his brother’s bed listening to him read than he does in his own with lovers.

Tonight is one of those nights.

The moon is a soft glow through the open window, casting milky light into the room as the summer heat keeps the air pleasantly warm.  Thor is lying on his back over the covers, eyes following the intricate wooden beams that arch and curve across the high ceiling of Loki’s bedroom.

Loki is lying on his front beside him; nose buried in some dusty old tome that surely holds great secrets, for Thor is certain Loki hasn’t blinked in the last hour.  He reads aloud as he progresses, and though Thor isn’t particularly interested in the topic of the chapter, Loki’s voice is a pleasant murmur that keeps Thor’s heart beating in time.

Thor pulls his attention from the ceiling as Loki’s words trail off to a confused hum.  Loki flicks back a page, brow furrowed as if the book has insulted him in some way.  Thor watches him silently, appreciative of how the moonlight only accentuates his pale skin beside Thor’s golden tan.

It’s odd that they appear so different; ‘one like the sun and the other like the moon’ the people say, but Thor hardly dwells on it.

Loki flicks between the pages a couple more times, clearly searching for an answer that is evading him and getting more and more frustrated about it. 

“Let’s go to the gardens,” Thor says suddenly, drawing Loki’s attention away from whatever is perplexing him so.  Loki cocks an eyebrow at him.

“It’s past midnight,” he says flatly, but shuts the book regardless and it feels like a victory. 

Thor shrugs, rolling onto his side. “So? Then it will be empty.”

Loki considers him for a moment, then he sighs hopelessly. 

“I suppose a walk might be nice,” Loki says, carelessly dropping the book off the edge of his bed with a thud.

“It will be,” Thor promises.

Loki flops ungracefully out of bed and pulls on his coat, hiding the slim curve of his waist as Thor chases it with his eyes.  Thor follows him, foregoing any extra layers and remaining in his light tunic.  Sneaking out is hardly a challenge anymore when Loki can whisk them out of the building in a flash of magic, but it’s still a little exciting.

The gardens are indeed empty, and beautifully silent in the sweet night air.  Moonlight beams between the trees as they pass, illuminating the various flowers and fruits that the royal gardens boast.  They pause briefly at Idunn’s tree, caught by the glow of the golden apples that shimmer in the near dark. 

Thor grabs one from a low hanging branch and bows to Loki, holding out the apple as a gift.

“Oh my,” Loki says breathily, teasing, hand over his heart.  “For me?”

“E’er was there a maiden more fair,” Thor grins, dramatically dropping to one knee and offering the apple higher.  Loki laughs and plucks it from his hand, taking a bite.

“Tastes like immortality,” Loki says, amused, licking his lips and tossing the gilded fruit back to Thor.  “If Idunn finds an apple missing you know she’ll blame me,” Loki continues, gaze fixed on the apple as Thor takes a bite next to his own.

“Yes,” Thor agrees with a nod and a mouth full of the sweet fruit, not unaware of Loki’s focus or the way his heart flips at the attention, “As payback for the last one you stole and blamed on me.”

Loki gasps in mock horror, walking onwards and leaving Thor to catch up, “You deserved the blame, it was your idea,” he says haughtily, shooting Thor a smirk over his shoulder.

Thor laughs, catching up and offering Loki the apple core, for the seeds are the most potent in their magic, the most treasured.  Loki takes it between two fingers and finishes it in two quick bites, licking his fingers clean in a way that has Thor’s cheeks flushing. 

They continue their walk down to the farthest garden, hidden away behind trees and hedges, a spot Thor knows Loki is very fond of.   The small clearing is home to a seer mirror - a large circular pond that channels a great source of magic, a hub of energy for those who can tap into it. 

Loki stops beside the pond, eying the glassy reflection with interest before taking a seat on the stone edge. 

“This _is_ quite nice,” Loki admits, watching as Thor takes a seat beside him, perhaps a little too close.

“Told you,” Thor teases, butting Loki with his shoulder playfully.  The contact sends a shiver up his arm that settles pleasantly over his heart. They sit in silence for a moment, watching the soft stir in the trees and the grass as the wind caresses them.

Once again, Thor feels the pull in his chest ignite, and like a starving man promised a feast, he yearns to sate it.  Glancing to the side, Thor finds himself breathless to see Loki watching him with the same intensity.

Loki averts his eyes immediately, favouring the skies instead, but Thor catches the flush that dusts his cheeks, even in the moonlight.  It twists strangely in his stomach. 

_I love you_ , Thor thinks suddenly, and with every fibre of his being he knows it, he feels it in every breath he takes.  The words threaten to spill from his lips but he swallows them down forcefully, for the thought scares him in its intensity.  Surely is it not wrong to love family? But… it’s not the same love he feels for his parents, nor the same love he feels for his friends, or even the men and women he takes to bed.

His heart hammers in his chest, so loudly he is sure Loki must be able to hear it.

Loki is still refusing to look at him, but as he cranes his neck to look at the sky, Thor’s eyes are drawn to a dark spot just at the base of his throat. 

At the sight of it, that small bruise, Thor’s mind is dragged through his memories almost by force.  His thoughts stop on Loki’s most recent admirer, likely the one who left the mark.  A man with charm (as much as any), who had Loki moaning and crying out loud enough last night that Thor had woken from sleep and could almost imagine them in _his_ bedroom, as if the wall between their rooms wasn’t there.

Thor had driven himself crazy trying to block out the noise and the images that came unbidden with them, of Loki on his back, hair splayed across his pillows, skin slick with sweat, nails digging into whatever-his-name-is’s shoulders as he chases ecstasy in carnal pleasure.

Thor’s hand had gone to his cock in hopes of supressing the burning desire that was building and building with each slam of Loki’s headboard again the wall.  The same burning desire that had not lessened at all when the thoughts of random men and women Thor was imagining refused to be anything other than Loki, thighs spread either side of Thor’s hips as he bounced on Thor’s cock.

The memory frustrates him now as much as it did then, causing him to bite down too hard on his lip and spill a drop of blood into his mouth, a visceral, bitter taste of the jealousy that tightens in his throat. 

Thor knows he has no say in Loki’s actions, or who he chooses to take to bed, (and Norns, Thor knows it would- _could_ never be him) but more and more he is beginning to wish he did. 

_He’s yours_ , the bond whispers, tightening in his throat like a threat, _Tell him._ The idea turns Thor’s mouth dry and his hands clammy.  Thor shakes the thoughts off, squashes them with guilt and shame.

Loki stirs beside him, bringing Thor back to blunt reality. 

Loki is leant back on one arm and is running his fingertips in the still water of the pond behind them, disturbing the glassy mirage of the sky with soft curving motions.  Thor watches, emotions bubbling unpleasantly in his throat like tar.

_Tell him_.

“Loki,” Thor starts, clearing his throat when the word comes out thin and croaky.  Loki turns back to him, flicking water off his fingers and Thor suddenly forgets how to speak at all.

Loki watches him expectantly, a flicker of confusion, and then concern.

_I love you_ , Thor thinks desperately, _I need you, I want you in all the ways I shouldn’t._

“We should head back,” he says instead, standing briskly and adding lightly, “unless you want to swim about in the pond and get cursed.”

The smirk that spreads across Loki’s face instils a very primal fear in Thor, and before he has the chance to defend himself, he’s been pushed backwards into the pond with a yelp.  He surfaces like a breaching whale, drenched from head to foot, with eyes wide in horror.

Loki cackles a laugh that unsettles a couple of birds in a nearby tree and Thor drags himself out of the water, grabbing Loki by his hand and pulling him forcefully into the pond beside him.  Loki falls back; crashing into the water with a shriek.

The pond is barely waist deep but it’s enough to have them both drenched to the bone.

“You look like a bog monster,” Thor laughs as Loki peels his jet black hair from his face, scandalised.

“You look like a frog,” Loki replies coolly, before a shot of green magic reduces Thor to nothing more than a small, croaky, red frog.  Loki bursts into laughter again as frog-Thor flails about in the water, helplessly not in control of his gangly limbs.

Loki scoops him into his hands and steps out of the pond, putting Thor down on the floor and changing him back to his usual self, though apparently without any clothes.

“Oh, sorry” Loki says, not sounding in the least bit sorry as Thor gasps and staggers to his feet, “I haven’t really got the hang of clothes yet.”

“Loki!!!” Thor hisses, flicking his hair back out of his face and looking into the pool in horror.  Nonchalantly, Loki slips off his (sopping wet) coat and gently places it around Thor’s shoulders, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.  Thor swallows hard, skin tingling where Loki’s lips were a second before.

“It’s not a _real_ seer pool, Thor,” Loki says, far too close, his inky black hair dripping cool water onto Thor’s neck, “It’s just made to look like one.”

“But you told me!-”

Loki simply laughs and whisks them both back into the palace in a flare of green.  After the minor jolt of dizziness, Thor finds himself in their shared bathroom.  Loki is standing opposite with his back to his bedroom door, soaking wet and leaving a similar puddle on the floor that Thor has gathering under his feet.   

“Good night, Thor,” Loki says, opening the door and disappearing inside, leaving Thor alone with his thoughts.  Wet, flustered and somewhat naked, Thor moves into his room and shuts the door.  Loki’s coat is heavy on his shoulders and Thor pulls it over himself, burying his face into the collar.

_This is enough_ , Thor tells himself, replaying the feeling of Loki’s hair brushing his neck, of his soft kiss.  _And it is more than I deserve._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> The next updates will be slow - I have a cosplay to make for the end of May and it'l be taking up a lot of my free time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That night, smelling faintly of pondweed, Thor dreams of lightning.

That night, smelling faintly of pondweed, Thor dreams of lightning.

It wraps around him like a monstrous snake, tightening in his chest, his throat, crackling white-blue in its intensity.  Thor wields it like a weapon, lays waste to villages, cities and planets with thunder roaring in his heart.

In his dream he is unstoppable, rage incarnate.

In his dream, he _enjoys_ it.

That night, smelling faintly of pondweed, Thor wakes with a start.  His body trembles as though over-exerted, his eyes wide with fear, his heart racing so fast he’s afraid it may shatter.  Beneath him, damp sheets cling with sweat to his skin. He fists his hands in them, grounding himself in the tension of fabric between his fingers until he feels the material rip.

Thor stares into the darkness of the room. His eyes adjust to the light, one second at a time, the grotesque horrors of his minds eye becoming mundane features; a shape in a dark corner of his room becomes a door. The flickers of gold above him, a mere beam. Crooked shapes on the floor, shadows.

Moonlight filters in through his window as it had done a few hours before, when Loki’s kiss to his cheek had left him flushed.  Silence answers the echo of screams in his head: His room is empty, not an item out of place, no towering destruction.

Images flash unwanted through his mind, indistinct faces of men, women, _children_ crushed to nothing beneath his bloodied hands.  It had been more vivid than a dream, more tangible than a memory.

Peeling back his sheets, Thor steps out of bed and moves on shaky legs to the window.  Asgard is laid out below him, silent, dark, unaffected by a would-be tyrant.  Thor places his hands on the stone window ledge and studies them, expecting a crackle of light to spark forth and blacken his skin, to consume him once again.  Even as he focuses on the minute trembling in his fingers… Nothing happens.  The stone is cool against his sweaty palms, a small reprieve from the dizzying pounding of his blood in his veins.

Minutes pass until Thor dares to search inside himself for that little spark of magic he knows he owns, capable of conjuring a small bolt of lightning and nothing more. He finds nothing out of the ordinary, no swelling storm or raging fire. 

It is a small relief, so he takes slow, steadying breaths, counting each one until he is finally calm and centred again.

“You’ve had a nightmare.”

Thor jumps, head whipping round to the source of the sound.  Loki is standing in the doorway to their shared bathroom, dressed in a plain dark tunic and nothing more.  He cocks his head to the side, but the way he wrings his hands show he is worried.

“I… Yes,” Thor says quietly. He is too startled by his brother’s presence to care about his own nudity, besides, Loki did rid him of his clothes earlier that evening after turning him into a frog.  Seeing Loki ignites a small warmth in Thor’s chest, and he takes comfort in it.

“What did you dream of,” Loki asks lightly, walking to Thor’s side at the window.  His air of intrigue feels forced, as if he already knows what Thor is going to say.

Thor returns his gaze to the horizon, mouth set in a thin line.  Loki waits patiently until Thor is able to speak again.

“Ruin,” he says plainly.  “Lightning, everywhere, coming from me. Storms, destruction.”

“Hm,” Loki says, bending over to rest his forearms on the window ledge.  The midnight breeze whips about him playfully, pulling loose strands of hair from the plait he must have put in before bed.  He moves a fraction closer until their bare arms touch and a wave of calm washes through Thor like ice on a burn.  He lets out a shuddering breath, the last trickle of nerves and fear leaving his body.

Thor glances to study his brother, trying not to let his eyes linger too long on the curve of Loki’s back or how the slit up the side of his tunic spreads open over the tops of his thighs, showing entirely too much skin for someone who regularly dresses covered head to toe. 

Thor drags his attention back to his hands, unmarred and plain as ever, “when I woke I was certain I could bring the storm forth again.”

“Did you?” Loki asks, a little too quickly, a brief flicker of excitement in his otherwise level tone.

Thor balls his hands into fists. “No. I am afraid to try.”

Loki nods, falling silent with thought. After a short while, Loki sighs a withering, world-weary sigh and stands tall, patting Thor on his shoulder as if he were delivering some terrible news.

“Well, you were going to be the god of _something_ eventually,” Loki says, “It wouldn’t be the first dream you’ve had that’s been prophetic, and if I’m honest your current use of magic is embarrassing at best.”

“I am no murderer,” Thor snaps, knocking Loki’s hand away and instantly regretting it, “If mindless destruction is to be my gift then I don’t want it.”

Loki laughs softly, unfazed by Thor’s simmering temper, “Norns, I don’t think it works that way.  Thor, you can already command a _little_ lightning.  This would just be…” Loki pauses, searching for the right words. He gestures airily, “An upgrade.”

The nerves build again like ants crawling over his skin and Thor clenches his fists by his sides, determined, even with no proof of the power he has wielded that he will never become the man in his dreams.

As if he had voiced his thoughts aloud, Loki murmurs beside him in answer, “You are a good man, Thor.  How you use any power you are gifted will be your choice.”

Thor does not reply and Loki remains a silent silhouette beside him, though it occurs to Thor suddenly that his presence at all is odd.

“Did I wake you?” Thor asks, finally turning to his brother and, once again, finds himself distracted.  As Loki switches his weight from one foot to the other, a sliver of pale thigh peeks through the material and Thor looks away instinctively.

Loki clears his throat, and Thor returns his gaze to his brother’s face sheepishly. Loki is watching him closely, eyes catching the moonlight and glowing a fierce green beneath his dark lashes, “I had the same dream.  When I woke I knew you were distressed.”

“Then you have seen that I cannot-,” Thor starts, emotions skyrocketing only to swallow his words when Loki reaches for him suddenly, hands firm around his biceps.  He’s too close, his breath just dusting along Thor’s chest like the whisper of touch and the proximity wrings any last thoughts from Thor's head.

“ _What I saw_ ,” Loki says slowly, demanding Thor’s attention with the gravity in his voice, “Is power unlike anything, I saw a _God_ worthy of worship with the skies his to command.  You will be unmatched.”

Thor open his mouth to contest again, and Loki holds up a finger to silence him, “you will learn to control it,” Loki says softly, “Just as father learnt, and mother learnt, and I am learning.  Wielding magic is a gift, do not discard it for fear.”

The words hang heavy over Thor’s heart and their bond simmers in answer, alight with intimacy.  "Loki..." Thor starts, torn between the need to press further into the space between them and pull away in shame.

"I'll hear no more of this tonight," Loki snaps, with no venom in his tone. He takes a step closer, answering Thor's silent call for contact by brushing his hands up to Thor's shoulders, a mimicry of a lovers embrace.  Once again, Thor wonders if Loki can feel it, that pull that consumes him and begs for touch.

Thor's hands find their way to Loki's waist, ghosting against the fabric.  Would Loki allow him such an intimate touch?  The mere thought of feeling bare skin beneath thin fabric brings a heat to Thor's gut that he knows he will not be able to hide if his body reacts to it.  He drops his hands back to his side and instead, he smiles, “You are wise beyond your years, Loki.”

Loki tilts his head ever so slightly, a flicker of some emotion Thor doesn't catch dancing across his shadowed features. He flashes a wicked smirk, “And don’t you forget it.” 

Putting a step of space between them, Loki glances around Thor’s room, eyes lingering on the bed for a moment, “I’m going back to bed. Do try and get some rest, hm?” he says with an air of finality, dropping his hands to his sides and leaving Thor yearning for the touch of skin but unable to ask.

Wearily, as if suddenly remembering his lack of restful sleep, Thor nods, the last diminishing dregs of adrenaline leaving his body with the dying simmer of the bond, “Aye.”

Loki smiles, satisfied, and returns to his room, stopping only briefly in the doorway to glance back over his shoulder, “If and when you do wield your new power,” he says, none too subtle in the way his eyes draw down Thor’s naked body in a manner that is entirely _not_ familial, “I look forward to seeing it.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry this is a short chapter I just really wanted to get back into it and start writing again, this year has been a nightmare and I feel terrible about leaving this without updates since March!!!
> 
> Anyway, hopefully chapters will start coming through a little more frequently now, thanks very much for sticking with me! <3 <3
> 
> No beta we die like men.


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